Magic and Logic
by DoctorSherlockLove
Summary: Sherlock gets called for a case. The victims are turning up with some traits that can't be explained. Well by logic. There's someone controlling these people and killing them after. Sherlock soon finds John acting strange and having the same signs as the victims. Sherlock now needs to save his John and stop this killer. Johnlock in later chapters. May be rated M later.
1. Chapter 1

I'm going to try my hardest at this story! It's my second multichapter. The first one didn't go so well. Please enjoy the first chapter!

* * *

It was 7 A.M. on a Saturday. The flat was filled with soft snores from up above and the clinking of beakers down below. The sound of cars and people drifted in from outside. Sherlock was testing the reactions of different acids on flesh when his phone broke the peaceful quiet. It was Lestrade. Jumping quickly, nearing tripping, he picked it up from the coffee table.

"What is it?" Sherlock was grinning behind his words. He hasn't had a case in weeks. The only fun he had was when he drove John up the wall with his boredom.

"We need you to come in. This case might peak your interest." Lestrade sounded stressed. Just from his tone, he knew this one with be worth looking at. This one was keeping him up all night.

"What's the location?" Sherlock was heading upstairs to wake up the sleeping doctor, not wanting to leave him behind like last time.

"The two bodies are at St. Bart's. You are gonna want to look at them first."

"We will be there in a half hour." Sherlock hung up and lightly pushed the door open. John's hair was sticking up, but it wasn't one of his worse bed heads. He was wrapped up in a warm blanket cocoon, in a deep sleep. Lightly shaking his shoulder, John was woken up and seemed very upset.

"Sherlock? What is it? It's too early."

He could hear the slight anger behind Jonh's voice. Obviously John didn't get a good night's sleep. _Probably another nightmare._ Plus, it was his first day off in several weeks.

"There's a case John! Come on!" Sherlock was bounding down the stairs, putting on his coat and scarf. Seeing John come down in his pajama pants and no shirt made him stop instantly. John started to blush and he crossed his arms over his chest before quickly heading into the kitchen.

"I need my tea and toast before we go. Maybe you should join me." John turned the kettle on and put bread in the toaster as Sherlock bounced on his heels. He started to pace as his blogger sipped his tea and spread jam on the toast. He couldn't wait any longer. Turning to yell at him to hurry, he was met with bread being shoved in his mouth.

"When you finish that we will go." Sherlock chewed as fast as his jaw could move, seeing John smile made him slow down slightly. After swallowing, he grabbed John and pushed him upstairs.

"Go get dressed. And fast." Sherlock ran down the stairs and waited silently by the door. He texted Lestrade to let him know that they were on their way. Soon the short man stumbled down, patting his hair flat. John followed him out the door slowly, still waking up. Catching the first cab he saw, the two men piled in, heading over to the hospital.

Molly met them outside the morgue with a small smile on her face, yet she seemed a little nervous. Sherlock made his way straight in and over to the first body, completely ignoring her. John apologized for his behavior and they started to chat. They were way too loud for him to concentrate.

"Be quiet! For crying out loud, I'm trying to think!" Sherlock huffed and got out his pocket magnifying glass, not seeing the shocked face on Molly and the rolled eyes from John.

The first victim's name was Will Jamison. His age was 34 and he was an English teacher. He never married but was in a serious relationship with the science teacher in the same school. He had lived in London his whole life.

Sherlock noticed his veins were pronounced and filled with a blue liquid. He took a sample to bring to the lab later. The man's eyes were glowing blue and seemed to be swirling around with white. As he was in the middle of examining a small puncture to the chest, Greg walked in.

"Hello Sherlock. Thanks for coming." Lestrade was forcing a small smile.

He huffed in reply. "Just give me the information so you can go home and sleep. You're no use when you're on no sleep and exhausted." Sherlock went back to the hole in the man's chest with a pair of tweezers.

"The two victims were found in an alley. No blood anywhere. No prints either. You've probably already noticed the veins and eyes. Interesting enough, their eyes aren't blue. Will's are supposed to be brown and Jenny's eyes here are supposed to be green." Sherlock made his way over to Jenny Evans' body. She was in the same condition as Will. Greg continued on. "The small wounds in their chests don't puncture any organs or bleed out. There's no sign of bleeding from their bodies. We don't have any cause of death."

Sherlock straightened his back and jumped with glee. "Finally! Something interesting!" John gave him the "a bit not good" look and he slowly came to a calm stop. He noticed John holding back a chuckle. Sherlock rushed out and down to the lab to test the blue substance from the veins, leaving the three giggling at the excited detective, acting much the same as a child given a piece of candy.

* * *

I hope you liked it :D Please review and let me know what you think. And if I should continue it.


	2. Chapter 2

Here's chapter 2! Enjoy!

* * *

He was getting so frustrated; nothing was matching. No chemicals or compounds were found. Nothing! Sherlock jumped up and chucked the dish at the nearest wall. What was making the blood blue? There has to be something! Anything! While ruffling his hair, he didn't notice that John came in to see the whole thing.

John walked over and grabbed his arm. He rolled his sleeve and placed three nicotine patches. Sherlock watched the strong, tan hands around his pale skinny arm. As casually as he could, he took his own pulse. Elevated. Even though he couldn't see his eyes, he could only guess they were dilated.

"Thank you John." Sherlock smiled with a small blush on his cheeks.

"You're very welcome." John returned his smile with a crooked one.

The comfortable silence was ended by Sherlock's phone ringing. Sherlock broke their gaze and answered his phone. John shifted awkwardly on his feet. Without saying hello, Lestrade went straight to it.

"There's three more. Found on the other side of town from the other two. But there's something new."

Sherlock jumped with glee and ran out the door, John scrambled to catch up. "What's the address?" He slowed down for John as Lestrade talked. "We are on our way."

John smiled at his flatmate's excitement. They got outside St. Bart's and Sherlock hailed a cab. How he did it so fast was beyond John. Piling in, they made their way to the crime scene. Five bodies total. Sadness rested behind John's eyes.

Police tape blocked off a small alley way leading to the bodies. Two of the three were like the others. Blue eyes and veins. There's probably a small puncture too. But the other body was not. His stomach was ripped out, along with all of his internal organs. They already knew the killer. The female of the two bodies, her hands were covered with the man's blood. The two blued eyed victims must have brought the man here and killed him. But they still don't know how the two killers died.

Sherlock was bent over, examining the blue eyes. They were still swirling around. Lestrade strode over, having had much more sleep than before. John was just standing over by the wall, not wanting to get in the way.

"What have you found?" Lestrade was holding a small notepad and pen, ready to write down anything he could.

"Well, the group of blued eyed people doesn't have a specific area. Maybe there's a leader that gives these people orders. Once they are done with their mission, there is no more use of them. So the leader kills them. How? I don't know." Pointing at the victim, Sherlock continues on. "Nothing too new, but this person knew something, which is why they killed him." Sherlock told him to call if anything new comes up and walked over to his blogger.

"Having fun?" John said with a smirk.

"Yes! An actual challenge!" Sherlock called them a cab and they made their way back to Baker Street. Sherlock was shifting in his seat. Tensing up when a hand was placed on his knee. John's hand was squeezing it slightly.

"Hey. Calm down. We're almost there."

They pulled up a couple minutes later. John chuckled as Sherlock ran out of the car, leaving him to pay. Sherlock was already up in the living room, pacing.

"Hey Sherlock. I just remembered something that could be helpful."

Sherlock turned around and grabbed John's head between his hands. "What is it? I could use anything right now!"

John chuckled at his friend. "I remember something similar happened in America. A man would take control over people with his staff. Their eyes would turn blue. The staff looked sharp enough to leave some sort of mark." Sherlock stared at him, taking in the new information. "It was worldwide news because aliens had come in to help him. New York was destroyed."

"Aliens? Really?" He scoffed at such an idiotic idea. "But it's very useful. Brilliant John!" Sherlock bounded over to the laptop, looking up articles, video, anything on the event. He missed the blush that crept up onto John's cheeks. "Do you remember anything else?"

"I think the man behind it all was Loki, the god of mischief."

He opened up a new tab to look up this god. Sherlock didn't know much about mythology and didn't want to. Mythology has no logic. It's based off of what people think what happened and who these people are. Along with religion. As soon as this case was over, he was going to delete this information. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see John on his phone.

"I'm heading out. Be back later. Don't worry about me." John was slipping on his jacket when he looked up.

"Where are you headed?"

"Drinks with Lestrade. See you later, okay. Bye." John whisked out the door, not hearing the detective sigh.

"Goodbye John." He continued reading about the incident in New York. How could he not know about this stuff? Sherlock was angry with himself but continued reading. John was right. Aliens, a god, destruction. But he didn't mention The Avengers. The superheroes stopped him and the aliens. He would call them to come out and help take Loki down. It was going to be difficult. But he didn't want these superheroes to attract attention and to make this case public. People panicking was not going to help.

News feed showed the aliens destroying everything. Citizens were being crushed by debris and shot at by these huge laser-like guns. Seeing them scream and theirs faces filled with terror, it was unsettling. He was done. He closed the laptop and looked at his watch. Five minutes to eleven.

Sherlock started to get a little nervous. John has been out for four hours. That's longer than normal for drinking with Lestrade. The most he's been out is two and a half hours. He would text but he didn't want to take the chance with drunk John. Even though he can be adorable when he is.

It was just after midnight when he heard the thumping of footsteps on the stairs. John was home.

"Welcome home." Sherlock glanced up over the cup of tea he had made. He was overcome with terror.

John's eyes were glowing a brilliant blue.

* * *

A/N: I planned on having this out a couple days earlier. But finals are coming up and I have been stressed out. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm working on chapter 3 and 4 almost done :) you might get two on the same day. Woo! Please review, it helps my motivation.


	3. Chapter 3

So sorry for the long wait! But to make up for it I'm posting chapter 3 and 4 today. I've been going through some stressful things and I hope you guys stick with me. I'm working on chapter five now. Enjoy! :)

* * *

John didn't greet him or acknowledge him in any way. He just stumbled up the stairs, obviously drunk, to his room. Sherlock tried to come up with some sort of logical reason as to why John's eyes were glowing. There had to be something sensible.

Maybe John's eyes are just naturally bright blue and I never noticed before.

It could have been the lighting of the lamps.

Maybe the alcohol was having some odd effect on his body.

Sherlock knew these weren't the cases. He knew the exact colour of John's eyes. They were like a stormy sea, a beautiful dark blue. No where near a sky blue, far from it. He wanted to scream, but waking up John would have been, as John would sayly, not good. Why does that always happen to him! No, wait. John is the one always being kidnapped and tortured. And it's all because of him. This was all his fault.

He didn't know how but he had to try to save him. This wasn't happening on his watch.

Just to be positive, Sherlock snuck upstairs to check John's veins and chest. He's been in John's room before but never when he was home. He would lay down on the bed, hugging John's pillow when he was away at work. Just to have the smell enter his nose to his mind was stimulating. It was always clean and straight. Nothing was ever out of order. You could tell that someone with military background lived there.

John was in a very deep sleep. He was going to have a huge headache tomorrow morning. As slowly as he could with the creaky floorboards, Sherlock made his way over to the bed. John's neck was stretched by the way his head was laid back. His veins were slightly pronounced.

Sherlock's mind got easily distracted.

His thoughts changed quickly. All that he wanted to do now was lean down and suck that beautiful tan neck. To mark it. To say John was his and nobody elses.

Wait. No. This isn't right.

He shouldn't be thinking that way about his best friend. John was just his flatmate and friend. He knew he had been getting weird feelings. Now he started to realise that maybe John was more than that to him. Sadly, John wouldn't feel the same. He knew he wasn't gay. He said it every time someone thought of them as a couple.

While getting lost in thought, Sherlock didn't notice the small man staring up at him. John had a confused, yet furious look on his face. Sherlock panicked and fell off of the bed. While wrapping his dressing gown tightly around himself, he ran out down the stairs to his own room. He probably just ruined everything. John's now going to be angry with him. Why did feelings have to get in the way.

Over the next couple days, Sherlock noticed his flatmate was sneaking out at night and not coming home till early morning. Lestrade has been calling for help about several new bodies, same as the other one. All guts and organs ripped out. But with these, they were not blue eyed victims.

He had a bad feeling John was involved. He would come home with his hands buried in his pockets, dashing up to his room. Always followed by a long shower. When John came back downstairs, he smelled slightly of bleach. When Sherlock glanced over his body, there was red under his fingertips and a small tint of scarlet on the fingers.

With everyday that past, Sherlock saw John's veins getting bigger. He didn't like that fact that his best friend was getting worse and worse every second. Slipping away, further and further into trouble with this group of people.

John wasn't John anymore. He didn't make tea everyday. Didn't write on his blog. Everything that made John was gone. He also rarely wore jumpers. Instead, nice buttoned up shirts covered his chest or even just short sleeved shirts too. John was also hung up in his room all the time with his laptop and phone.

Sherlock saw John come down the stairs in a black slim suit the next morning. This raised red flags. Suits were never worn. At least not by his flatmate anyway. John was not a suit type of guy. Sherlock sat back in his chair, scanning over John's body. There was nothing. It was like The Woman all over again. Sherlock felt out of his comfort zone.

John was slipping his shoes and turned to look at him. Sherlock frowned at the coldness behind his face. The warm, caring doctor was gone.

"I'm heading out and will be back late. Don't blow the house up."

Before Sherlock could say anything, John was out the door. There was a slam and tire squeal. He walked over to the window and saw John slide into the cab. He stood there for the next couple minutes before he put his coat on and ran out the door to follow him.

It was time to figure out what, or who, John was sneaking off to at night. Whatever it was, Sherlock was going to put a stop to it.

* * *

Please review! They help me write! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Heres chapter 4! Enjoy!

* * *

He found John's cab pulling up to an old, worn down factory. The houses near it were all boarded up and falling apart. The road was battered and full of potholes. Bricks and rocks were scattered around. This neighborhood was upsetting.

Sherlock noticed John slamming the cab door shut. He started walking through the gates and up to the giant doors. He was glad he told the cabbie to stop back. It would all be ruined if he was seen.

As he walked slowly up the sidewalk to the gate, not wanting to make a sound, Sherlock saw two children across the street. A boy and a girl. An older brother with his younger sister. They looked about eight and five years old. The little girl had blood around her stomach area, and quite a lot of it too. They looked homeless with no parents. He pulled his phone out to call an ambulance but the boy dragged his sister away at the sight of it. They limped away as fast as they could into an alleyway, the boy taking off his jacket and pressing it against her wound. The scene brought tears to Sherlock's eyes, but not a single one fell.

If John was here, he would run over and help the child. He would do anything to have her get well. But sadly, John wasn't. The children had to suffer.

Sherlock's head snapped back at the sound of one of the large doors slamming shut. He was not going to lose John now. He slid between the two gates. Luckily he was skinny enough to do so.

Running up to the doors, Sherlock pushed open one. Making any noise would put him in jeopardy. There was a loud creak from the hinges. He panicked and ran inside to hide behind some stacked boxes, trying to slow down his heart rate. His lungs hurt from the heavy breathing, surely John would hear him.

John turned and searched for anyone that was in the building with him. But his attention was distracted by a voice at the other end of the huge space. Jim Moriarty.

"It's probably some old floor boards. Ready to meet up with the boss for our mission?" Sherlock saw Jim's eyes flash blue as they turned to head up a small flight of stairs. His heart ached.

The two of them disappeared into the office room upstairs. Sherlock ran over to the stairs and climbed them, two stairs at a time, with ease. When he got to the top he peaked in through a small window in the door.

John was blocking his view of the man talking to them. He guessed he was the man behind the operation. Jim sat down and John followed suit, giving Sherlock the perfect shot of seeing the strange man.

The man had long black hair underneath a gold, horned helmet. His clothes were a dark, emerald green and outlined in gold and brown. It reached the floor. He had high cheekbones like Sherlock himself. The man's eyes were like emeralds. The grin on his face gave Sherlock shivers. From photos, he would have guessed Loki was standing before him.

He placed his ear up against the wood, trying to hear the conversation.

"These pathetic mortals are annoying. Especially that one detective of yours, John." The god flung his hands in the air in frustration. "That's why I have a job for you." John looked up, ready to accept the mission. Loki nodded to Jim, signaling him to grab something from the next room.

"I need you to get your flatmate down here. Having him under my control will give us a better chance in taking over London. And eventually England and more. He's close to catching us. That's not good." Moriarty came back in with a syringe. "Use this on him." John took it and nodded.

"I will succeed. It will get it done."

As Jim was getting his mission, Sherlock stepped back from the door. No, John was not going to drug and kidnap him. He ran down the stairs and outside. He sprinted down the sidewalk and kept pace until he made it to a road where he could catch a cab. The cab got him back to Baker Street in no time, and then he was up the stairs of the flat and locked in his room.

* * *

Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

Shortly after Sherlock ducked under his covers, John came home. He listened to the blogger's footsteps as they went upstairs. The sound of the slamming of drawers traveled down the stairs and into Sherlock's ears. He did not like this.

John was in charge of drugging him and bringing him to this god. If John was John and not this god's puppet. It hurt to see John agreeing to injure his friend. Especially without hesitation. But Sherlock knew he would have to act normal so he wouldn't raise any red flags. Making tea would help.

After opening the door slowly, he saw the familiar blonde head over the top of the chair. Sherlock got the kettle set up and pulled out the milk. He tried to stay as quiet as possible. John coughed and continued to read the book in front of him. The water started to boil and Sherlock poured it into two mugs. He let the tea bags soak and listened to the sound of his flatmate breathing.

He could practically cut the tension in the room with a knife.

Sherlock picked up both mugs and turned to walk over to his blogger but was met with a cream-coloured jumper. Tea went all over the man's stomach. John yelped and jumped back.

"Ouch!" John was pulling at the hot, wet fabric. "What the hell, Sherlock?! That's hot!" John walked out of the kitchen, pulling off his jumper and shirt. Letting Sherlock catch a quick glimpse of tan skin. Sherlock was frozen to the spot.

Sherlock didn't see John for the rest of the night, which he figured was a good thing. It was better if he didn't give John the chance. He'd just have to avoid him for a while until he changed John back. Yeah, that was it. He could hang out at St. Barts.

* * *

The next day, John had to go into work and wouldn't be back until seven. Sherlock took the time to see if he could contact the Avengers to see if he could get any help.

TO: IAMIRONMAN, Guyinasuit, BlackWidow, BowandArrow

FROM:

I have a feeling the god, Loki, has made his way to London. He has been taking control of several citizens so far. It has gotten so far to the point my flatmate and best friend has been taken over.

I need your help in getting him back along with stopping this god. Please help.

Sherlock Holmes

It was only a couple hours later he got a couple emails back in reply. Tony wasn't so helpful.

TO:

FROM: IAMIRONMAN

Just beat his sorry ass. It's not that hard. He's just a scrawny, whinny little guy.

- Tony Stark

TO:

FROM: Guyinasuit

I'm sorry sir. I can't help much. I remember my fellow agent, Hawkeye, was taken control of. I think Agent Romanoff was able to get him back. I would ask her for help. On trying to defeat this 'god'. Loki is a twisted minded villain who loves to play tricks on people. It's his way on getting power. My advice for you would to play with his mind like he will play with yours.

- Steve (Captain America) Rogers

TO:

FROM: BowandArrow

Do you know how to shoot a bow and arrow? Because if you do, aim for the eyes and chest. When Loki tried to take over New York, he had taken control of me. It was difficult to think straight. Having your mind taken over by a god is the worst feeling in the world. I do remember being able to hear other people talking though. Just try to get through to your friend by talking.

- Clint Barton

TO:

FROM: BlackWidow

I complete understand what you're going through. My best friend and partner was overtaken. His mind was completely gone and I was afraid I was going to lose him forever. I got him back though. I was able to knock some sense into him (literally) and I talked to him too. I think getting his emotions and thoughts out was able to free him. I hope I was able to help. GO GET HIM BACK!

- Natasha Romanoff

Tony and Steve were not much help, surprisingly. But Natasha and Clint were so much help, he wanted to hug them. There was a chance of Sherlock getting John back. The only bad thing about it was the emotions. Sentiment and feelings were not his area. Maybe the next chance he got he could try to talk about some of the emotions he was feeling. Yes. That was his plan.

* * *

Sherlock was at St. Barts in the morgue. He was looking in the microscope at a mixture of cat's blood and hydrofluoric acid. It was hard to think of what he would say the next time he saw John. Along with avoiding the flat too. Molly would come in and check up on him every so often. Sherlock had told her what was going on with John and the crimes all around London.

It was only a half hour later after Molly's last checkup that she came running in. She was out of breath and fear covered her face. Her mouth was moving such a fast speed but no words made their way out. He didn't like this look on Molly. She was such a kind and thoughtful woman. Sherlock was so grateful that she wanted to help fake his death and keep the secret.

Sherlock quickly stood up from the stool he was sitting on and glided across the room to her. He placed his hands on her tiny shoulders. The tears in her eyes were on the verge of falling. "Molly, what is it?"

"it's…..it's…..it's John. He's downstairs. He knocked a poor doctor unconscious because he wouldn't let him up here. He's….he's making his way up here now." Molly was now sobbing into her hands. Sherlock pulled her into an embrace. His shirt was getting damp from her tears. She pulled slightly away and tried to smooth out his shirt from where she was clutching onto. She was shaking and looked up. Molly looked like a scared little puppy.

"I want you to leave this lab. Once John walks in here, it will be too dangerous for you to be here. Go hide in the locker room or go home. Please Molly." Sherlock let her go and walked over to grab his coat. He glanced back to see her give a small nod. He could barely hear the croak that came out of her mouth.

"Good luck, Sherlock."

The door closed behind her as he wrapped the scarf around his neck. John came bursting into the room not a moment later.

"Hello, John." Sherlock was slipping on his coat. John was beat red and short of breath. As Sherlock turned around to grab the petri dish to take home, he realized he made a huge mistake. John stuck a syringe into his neck. The room started to turn dark and his sight grew hazy.

"It will be okay, Sherlock. Just go to sleep." John was in front of him with a small smirk on his face.

The room turned black when his head met the ground.

The last words he heard before he fell into unconsciousness meant defeat.

"Job succeeded. Bringing him to you now."

* * *

Thanks you reading! I hope you are enjoying this story and I would love to hear what you think! reviews mean the world to me! my best friend and sister has been doing a great job with editing this for me. :) I love her. Chapter 6 will hopefully be done by the end of the week! Hopefully!


	6. Chapter 6

Welcome to chapter 6! I hope you enjoy this! I've been struggling with feels because of Sherlock and I plan not to put in little things from series 3 in this story. :) but it's amazing and I love it so much I can express it with words.

I had trouble with this chapter and I don't know if I'm happy with it or not. I apologise in advance if it's not good.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

Sherlock woke up in a state of grogginess. He didn't quite remember what had happened. When he cracked his eyes open slightly, he was rewarded with a huge headache. The sole source of light blinded his sore eyes. He could hear water dripping from pipes, and waves crashed outside. He was somewhere near the ocean. The room smelled out wet wood and mold. The faint scent of gunpowder caught his attention, along with a pungent fishy odor. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he opened them fully.

He turned his head around at the sound of a door opening and the shuffling of several pairs of feet. John came into his view and walked over to the wall in front of him. He leaned back with his arms crossed against his chest. Soon Jim joined him. Within seconds the man behind it all strolled into the room.

"So this is the pathetic mortal that's trying to stop me." The man stepped into his view. He was wearing his black outfit with the green and yellow seams and lines. His long black hair was slicked back and his cheekbones jutted out. Sherlock had to say the outfit fit him rather nicely, snug in all the right places. He chastised himself for letting the thought enter his mind! Get your head straight!

Sherlock coughed and his raspy voice filled the air. "What's it to you? I just wanted my John back." He was so glad John wasn't able to say anything. That would have been awkward.

"Really? You mewling quim. Your soldier here is strong and brave. I'm not letting him out of my sight. You can have Jim here though. He's not so useful. I was going to just kill him off but you seem lonely, Sherlock."

Sherlock spat at the god's feet. "I told you once and I hate repeating myself. I only want John." He started to twist his wrists to see how much movement he had. Barely any. It was a pretty good knot. Damn.

Loki laughed at the ceiling. "Oh, you're not escaping me. Nope, you're going to play a key role in my plan." The god put his hands behind his back as he leaned forward, causing Sherlock to lean back in the chair. Two of the legs lifted off the ground and his weight went against him. The chair slammed back onto the concrete floor. Sherlock grunted in pain as his head hit the ground and his hands were trapped under the chair.

Only a couple seconds later the chair was yanked back up onto the four legs by Moriarty. Moriarty scrambled to yank his chair back up onto its four legs. Loki was whispering something into John's ear as Jim made his way back over to the wall. All John gave was a nod before glancing at him.

"Now. Time for business." He pointed at Jim and then to the door.

Jim left in a hurry with a spring in his step. A chill ran down Sherlock's spine. John still had a cold, distant look in his eyes. When Jim came back, he had a long staff in his grip. It was gold with an orb of blue light on top. Small engravings dotted the handle. Loki took it out of Jim's hands with that mischievous look in his eyes.

"I want you to be on my side, Sherlock. That brain of yours. It will help me when I take over London and, eventually, the rest of Earth." He was pacing in front of the chair, spinning the scepter like a baton. "John here has already joined me. Why not you?"

"I'm not one to be under someone's little mind control trick," Sherlock scoffed. "You will be stopped."

Loki grinned from ear to ear. "I knew you wouldn't give up that easily. You're Sherlock Holmes. It's too bad you don't have a choice." He started to raise the rod to Sherlock's chest when a loud crash came from outside the room. Loki whirled around furiously. "Go see what that was!" Moriarty sprinted out of the room. Another bang came out. Loki groaned and thrust a finger at John. "Keep an eye on him! I will be right back after I help this fool." Loki walked to the door.

The room filled with silence as Sherlock raised his gaze from the floor. John just stared ahead. His body was stiff against the wall. Sherlock's arms started to hurt and his wrists were raw. A loud pounding resonated in his head. He was sure there was blood on the crown from where it hit the floor. His head started to fall forward but quickly snapped back up at a sound across the room. John had moved from the wall, closer to the chair.

"I know you're still in there, John. This isn't you." Sherlock winced as the rope rubbed his burns. "Please John. Listen."

John tensed up slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about. This is me." He kicked at rock on the ground, watching it like it was the most important thing in the world.

"This isn't you, John. You are a brave, independent, ex-army soldier. You're my flatmate, partner, and best friend. I depend on you. It's the two of us against the rest of the world. Together as one." Sherlock blushed at his own words.

John stood there, contemplating this thought. But he shook his head. "No. That can't be me. I serve Loki and I will do anything he says. Whatever you think we had was just a show. Just to get on your side."

Sherlock tugged on the chair to get closer. It scraped against the concrete. This scared John into reaching for his gun. He slowly relaxed away from it. "John. Could you please release my hands? It's starting to hurt." Sherlock gave the best puppy-eyed look he could.

John hesitated. "I don't think I should. Loki would be very upset with me if I did." He took a small, tentative step forward. "Maybe for a little while… it would be fine. But I will tie them back up before he comes back." John disappeared behind the chair moments later.

The soft tan hands worked at the ropes, brushing against his ever so slightly. It caused Sherlock's pulse to quicken. As soon as the rope hit the floor, Sherlock already regretted his next decision. "I'm sorry, John. Please forgive me." Sherlock twisted around and punched the doctor square in the face with enough force to knock him to the ground.

John groaned in pain and tried to raise himself up on his elbows. "What… the hell. There was no need for that. I knew I shouldn't have untied you." He rubbed the back of his head. Sherlock back away slowly. John grabbed his gun and pointed it at the detective. "Now get back on the chair."

Sherlock raised his hands in surrender and took a step forward. "John, please. Just listen to what I have to say. You are under mind control of that god. This isn't who you are." As the blogger started to relax his hold on the gun, Sherlock continued. "I've never been one for feelings and sentiment. You know this. But I care about you and I hate to see you like this. Just listen." Sherlock gripped John's shoulders and the gun fell to the floor.

"I'm… I'm not sure. How can you care about me? We aren't truly friends." John shrugged off his hands. "It was all for show."

"What memories do you have of us? Do you remember how we met or what cases we've done?" Sherlock tried to push aside the hurt he felt at John's response.

John had a pensive look on his face. "I don't remember much of the past month. It all seems fuzzy." He hauled himself up from the floor and sat down in the chair, putting his head in his hands.

Sherlock went and kneeled in front of him, resting a hand on his friend's knee. "That's because your mind is under the control of someone else. Please John. I want you to break out of this. I love you." John's eyes widened at the confession. Sherlock was just as shocked that it came out of his mouth.

John had a large pain strike through his head making him lean over. He gripped the sides of his cranium, hoping to stop it. A loud hiss escaped his lips.

"John! What's happening?" Sherlock didn't get an answer. He pulled his friend to his chest and held him there, waiting to see if the pain would subside. John clutched onto Sherlock's shirt.

They sat there while John howled in pain. After a few minutes the pain must've subsided, as John calmed down and lifted his head. He turned to him in confusion. "Sherlock? What's going on?"

* * *

Please review! Reviews to me are like John to Sherlock :)


End file.
